Illusionist
by Starlit Skyline
Summary: "Oz?" asked Alice, bewildered "Who's Oz?" In the end, he managed to save them all, to stop both Glen and Jack, to change their past for the better and avert the end of their world... this was the price he had to pay.
1. The End

**Summary:**"Oz?" asked Alice, bewildered "Who's Oz?" In the end, he managed to save them all, to stop both Glen and Jack, to change their past for the better and avert the end of their world... this was the price he had to pay.

**Also, this is AU after chapter "95: Vincent" and so anything that happens after that chapter will _not_ be included in this story.**

**Disclaimer: **I, the author of this fanfiction, do not own Pandora Hearts or make any profit from writing this story. Pandora Hearts belongs to Jun Mochizuki. The cover photo is one I found on the internet and adapted, it belongs to the person who made it, namely Kodoko from deviant-art who colored and Jun Mochizuki who made it in the first place, and I claim no ownership over it. I write for my own entertainment and, hopefully, that of others. This disclaimer applies to all other chapters and this fanfiction as a whole.

**Warnings:** nothing too graphic, some cursing, there will be some confusion at times as this is _mystery_ and it's _Pandora Hearts, _also **spoilers** abound.

**AN:** I've wanted to do this for a while, though I'm a bit nervous now that I'm posting it. I put a lot of thought and effort into this, so I'm just nervous about what people may think of it. This is my absolute favorite manga out there and now that I have a good plot in mind, how could I not write this? Admittedly, I should be finishing off other stories but I just couldn't resist. The manga's going to end soon, so I just wanted to post this before it makes me drown in the feels all over again. I hope you like it!

P.S. If you're looking for good PH fics, check out the **Lovely Pandora Hearts** community. As part of its staff, an avid reader and an extremely picky person, I can guarantee quality.

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_Illusionist_

by _Starlit Skyline_

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_Chapter One: The End_

His feet were pounding against the ruined floor and his desperation was only driven to further extremes when he saw the puddle of blood that's only growing and_ growing _and the ocean it made just kept spreading as he crashed to his knees in the crimson liquid, beside the curled figure that seemed like a lonely island in a sea of red.

His hands shook as he gently touched the man's shoulder, turning him slowly to his side.

His blonde hair was dirty and matted with his own blood, but his eyes still held some awareness in their depths.

"Gil?" the voice was barely a whisper, a quiet and infinitely tired croak from already chapped lips. A bead of incarnadine dripped down his chin almost lazily. The wound in his abdomen had been too deep, it seemed, for even the Baskerville bloodline to heal completely. He could hear Ada crying quietly in the background.

His face could have been anything – from frustration to desolation to anything in between – but Gil still felt the tears gathering in his eyes and let them fall freely. "Idiot! Why'd you have to go and do this?"

There was no answer, and he's already driven to the edge of hysterics as he shouted.

"_TELL ME!"_

Gil's body folded in then, over the figure on the floor and shudders with the pain in his chest.

"_Why?"_

He felt a hand then, sluggish but warm still, tug at his sleeve weakly. He opened his eyes again, shaking his head. The figure below smiled sadly.

"Gil..." he whispered, and maybe he was about to say something more, maybe _he _should say something, but everything ended when the coughing fit began. It was harsh and loud and wet and Gil had only ever heard the sound from dying men. Men he'd killed with his own hands.

"It's alright," he whispered and stroked the fabric on the back of Vincent's black coat, offering the meekest of comforts – to the one below, to himself, he didn't know. "It's going to be okay." He repeated the words over and over even though he didn't believe them himself. From the smile the blond was giving him, he knew Vince didn't believe it either.

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

_Once upon a time _has to be the worst way to start a story, in Break's opinion at least. But, really, he shouldn't care. His story had already ended and he was nothing but a soul floating in a bottomless Abyss.

He'd never been too fond of fairytales either, but _once_ _upon a_ _time _and in a place he could no longer reach, he used to read them to his little Mistress Sinclair. She'd always smile that bright smile of hers as well, asking _"How does it end? How does it end?"_and he'd answer, deciding to humor the little girl and privately amused by her antics.

"_How?" __To this day, he still remembered her laugh – childish and innocent and coated in the memory of halcyon days.__ "Why, like any other story would, of course – happily ever after!"_

Oh, how he wished that were true.

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

His sword was coated in blood.

He heard as the crimson flowed and slipped off the slick blade of his sword to taint the floor – _drip, drip, drip_– and steadfastly ignored the sound. He ignored the flames all around him, the sound of wood burning and the stench of charred flesh and blood.

His footfalls were determined and unwavering and his eyes were the coldest shade they'd ever been. He felt numb even as a raging inferno licked at his insides while the outwardly one filled his lungs with smoke.

This was the end, he knew. He could make it right now, correct every mistake he's ever made.

_He wanted him _**gone**_._

He could fix it. Fix everything.

His footsteps were loud and unwavering but as Glen walked through the ruins of the world he couldn't help the way his chest was constricting painfully every so often and how much he just wanted to _stop_.

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The sky was falling, she dully noted as she looked up at the vast blue above. It was cracked and even missing some pieces in some places, like a broken vase. Yes, a vase that had cradled their world at its bottom, but was now shattered and permitted parasites to infest its interior.

Her head was swimming and her heart was beating so fast it was painful, but whenever she'd tried to get up before she'd just stumble and fall down again. Her hands shook whenever she held herself up by them and her legs wouldn't ever support her weight. She'd screamed at herself to get up, to keep fighting, but she didn't even have the energy to do that anymore. Cheshire couldn't help her anymore either, he was dead after all, and this time it was for good.

She's fading fast from this world and perhaps all others and she knew it. Everything around her was coated in red and rubble and the screeching in her ears was like the screams of millions and the shattering of glass.

A shadow loomed over her, waiting to devour her, to end her.

She was never one to admit defeat. Never one to give up or relent and never one to lose like she was doing now. But what was the point anymore? Her limbs were heavy and her eyelids dropped on their own, her long lashes obscuring the blurring picture of desolation all around.

Alice closed her eyes and hoped it would end soon.

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She stumbled through ruined streets as buildings collapsed around her. She was running, or at least trying to as she tugged and dragged the dead weight on her shoulder. Liam was leaning heavily on her as Lily Baskerville trudges ahead of them. Lottie and Doug had gone after Glen, Oz and the others.

Lily stopped on an outcropping of stone and concrete, the remnant of some fallen building, and turned back to them.

"The way's blocked!" Lily yelled, jumping over rubble as she made her way back to them. Just as she reached them yet another tremor shook the earth, this one even stronger than the one before. Windows shattered and glass rained down, the buildings creaked and walls begun to crumble.

The town of Sablier was old, its houses were aged and toppled over like dominoes.

Sharon has just enough time to register that she would never see her grandmother again before she sprang into action.

Black flames burst out from under Lily's shadow, forming a watery puddle beneath her feet. Without hesitation, Sharon threw Liam's battered form towards the smaller girl. Despite her height and body-age, Lily had good reflexes and caught Liam's body as it crashed into hers. Lily had looked up with a squeak, surprised, and then fell down Sharon's rabbit hole.

Sharon wasn't sure where she was sending them, didn't know what to do but hope that it was enough. She took a step forward and the world crumbled around her.

She screamed and broke out into a run. There was no time to expand the portal, she'd have to reach it herself. Her sprained ankle protested but she didn't care, she just needed to make two more steps. It was all she could do before the world came crashing down and the flurry of bricks hit her small body, burying her beneath their weight and the dirt of the landslide.

Sharon didn't know this though, she knew nothing.

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His life was slowly being drained from his body, at the pace of a mortal wound bleeding out. He was familiar with the feeling.

Liam could feel hands, small and delicate, pressing frantically against his abdomen in a desperate attempt to save him. His glasses were broken and there was a big crack on the right lens, but he could still see Hell being unleashed on the earth.

He could do nothing to save it. It was over, the sensible part of him reasoned through his sluggish, panicked brain. Every other part of him, from his heart down to his very soul, was screaming at him to get up and... do what?

Run? _Where to?_

Fight?_What? There was nothing there to fight._

Hide? _What good would that do?_

_Live?_

All he could do was try to heal himself. And fast. He needed to get up and find Miss Sharon. They'd gotten separated at some point he couldn't remember. His head didn't seem to be working properly.

He wanted to sleep though, yet he knew he had to get up. _But March Hare is whispering,_whispering You should sleep,_sleep._ and it's so tempting to just close his eyes and lose himself to oblivion.

"_Xerx, don't throw your life away."_

He closed his eyes and choked back a sob.

_Get up! Get up! Get up!_

He had to get up, had to keep moving even if every bone in his body was broken. He has to keep going because of the others – _for_ the others.

Where were the others? Were they even alive? And even if he found them...

...how could he possibly hope to save them?

No, this wasn't the time for doubts, because time was running out.

For all of them.

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He stood on the edge of universe and stared into the abyss of time.

He couldn't help the grin that came to his face, crazed as it was, and felt the heavy, blood-stained cloak he was wearing sway with his movements. Echo's cloak. The one she'd been wearing when he'd killed her.

He pitched forward and for a moment it looked like he might fall in but then he caught himself. Barely. But not yet. He had to live.

His smile widened even as tears carved their paths down his ashen cheeks.

"_I don't like you, I hate you. Jack, but..."_

How foolish...

...how brilliant.

"..._make a deal with me!"_

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**AN: Be sure to leave me a review and tell me what you think! I'm dying to know!**


	2. The Beginning

**AN:** Here's chapter 2! Things start to get confusing right about... _now!_

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_Chapter Two: The Beginning_

_Blood._

_It was everywhere, drenching everything, painting every grotesque part of his surroundings incarnadine – drenching _him.

_There were bloodstains on the palms of his hands. Blood on the sword he held and on his cloths. He could almost taste it on his tongue._

_There was someone – a man? No, too short... a boy? – in front of him. He couldn't see him clearly, but he could feel blood – his own this time, and why did it make him feel so _relieved? _– trailing down his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision._

_A voice drifted through his ears, like a serpent whispering, winding around his neck like a noose._

_It's far, far too late._

"_So Elliot, would you rather be killed by me, or...?"_

Elliot jerked up in bed, his bed-sheets falling off with the sudden motion. He drew big, heaving breaths as his heart beat frantically inside his chest. It took him a few minutes to register he was in his room, in his bed and that the nightmare he'd just gone through was just that... a nightmare.

Scowling, Elliot threw his sheets off completely and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Fantastic," he grumbled to himself "Bloody fantastic."

Scowling some more, Elliot made his way towards his wardrobe. The door chose that moment to creak open. It clicked shut a few moments later.

Elliot sighed in irritation, not even bothering to turn around. There was only one person that would actually dare to barge into his room without even bothering to knock. "What do you want Leo?" he growled.

"You slept in." came the reply of his childhood friend – and only that title was keeping Elliot from kicking Leo out of his room. That, and Leo could fight back pretty well. It wasn't worth the bruises.

"So?"

"You never sleep in," Leo clarified. "unless you're having one of those again."

Elliot heard tailored shoes click against the floorboards, coming closer, and he breathed deeply through his nose before exhaling. Calm, he needed to be calm. He was fine.

"I'm fine." he said, aware that the silence had stretched far too long for it to sound even moderately convincing. He didn't know why he tried anymore, Leo had always been far too perceptive to ever fall for any of his excuses.

"Uh-huh." Sure enough, Leo had seen right through him yet again. Elliot still refused to face him. "What was it this time?"

Elliot sighed. He was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. The Nightray turned around slowly to look his best and oldest friend in the eye, the dark circles beneath his cerulean eyes evident for all to see. "Same old same old. A ton of blood and corpses, but no flames." he paused, remembering the presence he'd sensed in his dream. "I think someone was there with me."

Leo frowned at this, but for the life of him, Elliot couldn't figure out what he was thinking. "Really? What did they look like?"

Elliot shrugged. "Don't know. Couldn't get a good look at them."

Leo's brow furrowed deeper.

"What happened then?" he questioned.

"I woke up."

"Nothing else?"

Elliot's eyes twitched. How was he supposed to know? He didn't even want to remember and his mind was already doing a splendid job of blocking the nightmare from his conscious thoughts. "Nothing I can remember. Seriously Leo, what more do you want from me?"

His friend smiled sheepishly at his snappish tone. "Sorry, I just thought that if we could find out more about your dreams maybe we could find what was causing them and fix it." _That we could fix you_ went unsaid. Elliot preferred it that way. Saying that made him feel like some mental-ward patient. It wasn't really a problem either way.

_Yeah, _a sly voice sounded in his head, sounding suspiciously like the dark-haired teen standing across from him _just keep telling yourself that, Elliot._

The Duke of Nightray shook himself "Uh, come on. We need to get ready."

Leo just smiled at him, the somber expression almost completely gone now.

"What do you mean _we_?" he teased, striding to the door "You're the one still in pajamas, Elliot!"

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Some time later, Elliot came down for breakfast. The maids and butlers all bowed as he passed, as well as when they were done serving him and Leo. Personally, the long table in the dinning room had always felt far too empty for Elliot's taste. His mother had died when he was young, too young to even remember her. His father had died recently. He had no siblings to speak of. Now that his father, the former Duke of Nightray, had passed away Elliot was left alone in the vast mansion.

Well, that wasn't true. Leo was there now, though he probably shouldn't have been.

He glanced side-ways at his companion. "You do know you're gonna get in trouble, right?" he asked "Did you even tell your father you were staying here?"

"He's not my father." Leo corrected automatically.

Elliot's eyebrow twitched. "Did you tell _Glen_?" and honestly, hadn't they gone over this a thousand times? Leo was so stubborn, even to the point of making Elliot say the name of the most powerful of the Dukes with no honorific.

At this Leo shook his head, taking a bite out of his omelet. "No. He doesn't really care where I go, just as long as I come back and keep up appearances." he said nonchalantly, but Elliot could hear the wistfulness his friend so adamantly chose not to acknowledge. Being a child from the orphanage, there was no doubt in Elliot's mind that Leo surely wanted a family to belong to... Leo just never had the chance to learn that some families didn't always see eye-to-eye.

Elliot hid his amusement by taking a sip of his juice. "Still bummed over your big brother?"

"He's not–" Leo began to protest, but Elliot cut him off.

"Leo!"

There was an irritated huff from the other side of the table. "He still insists Gilbert is better suited for the job of Duke."

Elliot almost choked on his drink. What the-?

"Gilbert?" the doubt in his voice was palpable. Leo nodded. Elliot groaned, feeling a headache coming on. Did he even want to know? Honestly, Duke Baskerville was so obstinate sometimes, especially when it concerned his eldest adopted son.

"Uh, let's just go." Elliot muttered, getting up from his seat.

Leo seemed to perk up at this. Smiling, he said "Yes, I'm sure Miss Sharon is rather eager to see us."

Elliot just grunted.

A servant bowed and went to fetch their travel cloaks. Elliot walked leisurely down the hall, Leo behind him, and soon they reached the front door. Elliot's head butler handed them their travel-cloaks and hats. The carriage was already waiting for them at the base of the steps leading up to the Nightray Manor.

As they walked, Leo spoke up. "This is really nice, don't you think Elliot?" he asked cheerfully. "All four Dukedomes hosting this festival together."

"_If that's true, let's work together..."_

Elliot blinked distractedly. "Leo, did you sa-?"

"..._change the... between the... and Nightray... houses..."_

Suddenly, Leo's worried face flooded the Nightray's vision. He was frowning slightly. "Elliot?" he asked, obvious concern coating his tone. "Are you okay?"

Elliot shook himself before answering. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Yeah, just a headache." he assured. They'd reached the carriage by now and Elliot wasted no time in getting in. When he sat down Leo took the apposite bench, his brow still furrowed in worry. Elliot repressed the urge to sigh for the umpteenth.

"It's nothing, really." he told him, his voice firm and certain "It was nothing but a dream. It wasn't real."

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_At the very bottom of the rabbit's hole, the Black Rabbit sat sipping his tea. In his hand, he held a book, a book he loved dearly. He gazed at the pages, but the look in his eyes revealed he was far away._

_„Elliot was right." said the Rabbit with a smile, secretly, almost to himself „Edgar really was a jerk!"_


	3. Daydream

**AN: **Merry (Belated) Christmas to all those who celebrate it! Also Happy (Belated) Hanukkah and all other holidays! I wish you all much happiness! Also, the Black Rabbit is a boy, and he's someone we all know and love. I'm not saying anything else.

Special thanks to **Kuvica** and **56006** for reviewing last chapter! Thanks guys!

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_Chapter Three: Daydream_

Gilbert woke up with a headache, which, for him, wasn't all that unusual.

At least he'd had the fortune to wake by his own volition and not someone jumping on him or hitting him with a fan or finding Break _under his bed_– and hadn't _that_ been just the most wonderful way to start his day? – so he guessed that he should be happy for that, at least.

"_SEA-WEED HEAD!"_

Spoke too soon.

Fortunately, he was already out of bed and dressed, thus he'd effectively avoided being pounced upon by none other than Alice Baskerville. Honestly, he just couldn't understand what was running through that girl's head. She was a _Baskerville_, for the love of the Abyss! She was supposed to be a dignified lady.

Gilbert snorted to himself. Yeah, and Sheryl Reinsworth had gone off her rocker and had finally agreed to marry Rufus Barma. Ha!

Deciding he'd wasted enough time in his room, Gil set out for the Reinswort's dinning hall. He'd been staying with the family for a good while – slept over now and then, but it was often enough that he'd gotten his own room in the mansion. It was... nice. For all he had to deal with on a daily basis, Gil was rather content.

He got along rather well with Sharon and her grandmother, he was one of the rare people who could actually tolerate and deal with Xerxes Break's insanity and he was actually rather fond of the stupid rabbit. He couldn't even remember why he'd given that nickname to his "sister". Baskervilles were, after all, not related by blood. Well, except Glen and the Alices – and who even named them that? Whoever they were, they hadn't been very creative. Not to mention it caused a lot of difficulty and confusion in conversation, because while their names were written differently, Alyss and Alice were too similar not to get mixed up in conversation most of the time.

Besides that, Alice was the only one in his "family" who he could genuinely say he got along with. That wasn't to say he wasn't fond of his adoptive father, quite the contrary but Glen was just too... demanding. And if Gilbert was honest, he didn't _want _to be Duke. And he certainly didn't want to kill his own little brother just because the unearthly shade of his eye. Consequences be damned, Vincent wasn't dying while he lived and breathed.

Speaking of his brother, he hadn't seen him in quite a while. Ever since they'd ran away from Glen and decided to start on their own, Vincent had gotten a job as an apprentice to a third-rate noble's little shop. To say Gil was surprised was an understatement and not because Vincent wasn't destroying anything for once, no he was _happy_. The noble who owned the shop, Oscar Vessalius, seemed to have grown fond of him as well... as fond as anyone ever got of dear Vince. Still, Gil couldn't shake the feeling that he recognized the man from somewhere. It was a funny feeling in his gut he'd learned to trust. But hey, if Vincent – suspicious thing he was – trusted him, why not?

He, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky.

All his life, Gilbert couldn't shake the feeling that there was something missing.

When they were orphans on the street and then later just freaks in a freak show, he'd thought he'd missed a warm bed and a meal, maybe even a family to take care of them. When he got all those, he still felt incomplete.

There was definitely something missing, something he desperately wanted to find. But _what?_

Alice choose that moment to fling the door open and stomp inside, growling just as loudly as her stomach.

"_SEA-WEED HEAD! I WANT MEAT!"_

An irritated huff escaped Gil just as a small smile tugged at his lips.

Right, well, at least he had his distractions.

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Break stood up from the breakfast table with a chortle.

Gilbert had forgotten they were having guests today, Break noted slyly as he listened as the younger man clamber up the stairs to get himself into something decent. Really now, like that was going to help him.

The young Duke Nightray's opinion of him was already very low, Break honestly doubted Raven could have changed it no matter what he chose to wear. That boy, Elliot, was so grumpy, Break wondered if anything _could _please him.

Chortling a bit more, Break made his way to the vast gardens behind the mansion to carry and prepare a table for some tea and biscuits. The guests wouldn't arrive before noon, but that didn't mean he couldn't satisfy his sweet-tooth now.

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"So, Lord Elliot, what do you think?"

"Hmm, I have faith in your tastes, Lady Sharon."

Sharon smiled at her friend. "Good! Then it's all settled! The gala will be held in the Baskerville Estate in three days! The Rainsworths will provide flowers and decorations, the Barma will be in charge of entertainment and the Nightrays will take care of the music and the foods and beverages!"

Elliot nodded thoughtfully as the duty of each house was listed. "Yes, that sounds about right." he confirmed.

He, Leo, Sharon, her servant – Bleak, was it? – as well as the Barma servant, Liam, and Gilbert and Alice Baskerville were all gathered in the patio of the Reinsworth Estate. It was rare for the four houses to be gathered like this, but Elliot found he quite enjoyed the instances when they were all able to meet, however briefly. Barma, of course, almost never made an appearance during these informal meetings and Elliot, truthfully, didn't miss him.

"Care to stay for lunch as well?" Break was saying.

"I'd love to, but a Dukedom doesn't run itself. I'm afraid I'll have to decline." Elliot answered honestly. As much as Gilbert and Alice managed to annoy him, this reprieve from his usual paperwork and stress of being the youngest Duke in the history of their country could take its toll. Besides, Leo got along with both Gil and Alice rather well – in the sense that he didn't shout for them to get out of his sight or avoided them like the plague – and Elliot was getting tired of his friend following him around almost constantly.

Still, the time for pleasantries was over.

"I hope we'll get the chance to do this again soon." he added. Though such impromptu meetings seemed to just happen every so often and though something usually managed to go wrong one way or another – Alice stealing meat from a local market, Gilbert running away to some remote part of town because of his fear of cats, Break pulling some odd joke or something of the like – Elliot, though it annoyed the Abyss out of him, was able to laugh about it later, in privacy of course.

Sharon looked disappointed, but nodded graciously nonetheless. "Oh, alight Elliot, come visit us again soon."

He nodded to her as well, stood up, kissed her hand and beckoned Leo to follow him as Xerxes Break showed them out, with a hop in his step and a smirk on his face, as though to tease them with some untold secret.

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Half an hour later, the rest of the group had dispersed and gone their separate ways. Sharon went to her private library – to read who-knew-what – and dragged Alice along as well. Liam was called to Lady Sybil's side, to help with work in the garden, she'd said. This left Gilbert to help Break clean the table, for lack of anything better to do.

As Gil was carrying a stack of dishes, Break twirling and spinning as he walked beside him and making Gil wonder how, exactly, he hadn't dropped any of the cutlery or china he was carrying, the silver-haired servant sing-songed. "Raven, you're going to accompany me on a trip tomorrow! Just a friendly reminder."

Gilbert stopped dead in his tracks "Reminder?! I haven't heard anything like this before!"

"Really?" Break stopped too, turning to face him with an all too innocent expression, looking for all the word as confused as Gil felt. But Gil knew better and, after a few vicious glares thrown at the resident clown, Break finally relented.

"Oops, my bad!" Break said, much too cheerful "It seems I forgot to hand you the briefing documents the Baskervilles sent over a few days ago! Silly me!"

Then, twirling and spinning as he had before, Break went ahead. Even if Gil's hands hadn't been full, he doubted he'd be able to catch Xerxes and give him the lesson he deserved.

So, instead, he contented himself with grumbling all the way down to the kitchen.

„Insufferable Clown." Gil mumbled into his chin sourly.

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**AN:** I just want to point out that Pandora, as an organization, doesn't exist here. The Baskervilles are still in charge and all matters concerning incidents with the Abyss fall to them. They're basically like the police, but not quite. Confused yet? Any questions? Just ask!


	4. The End of Halcyon Days

Thanks to **Cutiepie120048 **for reviewing!

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><p><em>Chapter Four: The End of Halcyon Days<em>

Pale fingers, like paintbrushes, spread the warm rays of sunrise across the sky. It was still early, so much so that the gray and the silence of pre-dawn still hung in the air. Break stood leisurely in front of the main gates of the Reinsworth Estate, waiting in amusement for his sleepy counterpart.

And Gilbert didn't disappoint.

For a couple of minutes later, a head of uncombed sea-weed and sleepy golden eyes walked past him to the carriage waiting in front of the gates without so much as a glance. Whether Gilbert had even noticed him was debatable when the younger man was in such a state, but Break could bet Gilbert was simply ignoring him, as revenge for dragging him on an errand so early in the morning.

Gilbert could be so petty sometimes.

Though the one-eyed terror would admit, breakfast did sound good right about now. And Gilbert was a surprisingly good cook... Not that the little raven needed anyone to pamper his ego. Or maybe he did... in a hilariously devious sort of way.

And Liam was staying with them as well, and Liam made the most _delicious _crumbcakes and there was also the fact that he was missing out on teasing his favorite rabbit as she made herself a mustache with frosting if Liam decided to make strawberry short-cake as well, and he would, because it was Xerxes's favorite and the white-haired man wouldn't get to eat it. Such a tease.

Maybe he would've even managed to manipulate Gilbert into embarrassing himself again.

Break hummed to himself as he made his way to the carriage, shutting the door behind him with a devious smirk fixed on his lips.

Well, Gilbert certainly had his uses.

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

His quill scratched across the parchment distractedly, his violet eyes clouded in thought. He knew full well that he should have been paying more attention to his work, but his mind continued to wander. Had he been foolish? No, no, the Duke of Baskerville should not and was not the kind of man to doubt himself.

Still, had his decision been wise? Had it truly?

A man had been found – battered and unconscious – in his garden about a month ago. There had been no trail marks, no footsteps imprinted in the ground despite the lack of rain and no obvious indicators as to how he got there in such a state. With no one noticing his presence, no less, or how he'd even ended up in such a poor condition to begin with. It was like the man had literally fallen out of the sky. Even to the great Duke, Glen Baskerville, this was slightly disconcerting.

Most would have called the law-enforcements, but Glen had decided against it. The Baskervilles were in charge of national security, were they not? He didn't want anyone to suddenly start believing the protection of his home was poor and that they could now steal from him or worse, doubt him as a leader. He'd made that decision, though doubts had still lingered in the back of his mind, even before he had reached the gardens that fateful day, when the man had been found.

It had originally been Charlotte and Lily that had found him, sprawled in some bushes near the forest. Lily had been sent to notify him while Charlotte had stayed behind with the body.

Glen hadn't been sure what he'd been thinking back then, as he'd made his way down to the gardens. He'd been slightly worried, annoyed, furious and above all skeptical. What in the world was going on? He had had half a mind to just throw out the bloke that had dared break into his property. But no. Then he wouldn't be able to punish him accordingly or to find out what in the Abyss was going on.

All of his ire evaporated with three, simple words:

"He said _Lacie."_ Charlotte had murmured, transfixed and back as straight as if she'd turned into a statue, staring down at the man like she was seeing a ghost. Glen too, had paused mid-step, his mind going blank for a few seconds. _Lacie?_ How long had it been since he'd heard that name last?

Since the disappearance of his sister, Lacie Baskerville, many years ago he hadn't been able to feel much of anything. Not many dared to say that name in front of him, for it was still as raw and as bleeding a wound as the day she'd dissipated. That time had been so hazy, it felt as though it had been an eternity since then, like another lifetime. And now, out of nowhere, comes this random man who'd fallen unconscious in the middle of his garden and just so happened to call out to his long-lost sister in his sleep.

Glen sighed, putting the quill down in defeat. This was getting him nowhere, he needed to clear his head. Slowly, as if a great weight was chaining him down, he stood up and made his way to the door. Only a few steps out into the corridor and his thoughts were already beginning to stray. As were his feet, apparently, since what he had intended to be a walk through his vast gardens somehow led him to the East Wing of his grand Mansion.

He paused outside the door leading to the unknown man's room, as he was coming to think of it. It was so strange. It had been a guest room, before, but now it seemed to have gained a constant occupant. The man hadn't so much as twitched since he'd been laid there. Aside from that first day and that one word Glen hadn't been present to hear whispered. The man slept such a deep slumber it was as though he were dead.

Glen raised his hand, hesitated for a fracture of a second, let out a irritated breath and then pushed the door-handle open.

A familiar sight greeted him as he entered.

Light streamed through the light, billowing curtains, making them transparent as they swayed with a gentle spring breeze. A warm, camel beige painted the walls, which were lined by two bookshelves and a grand wardrobe, all embroidered wood and intricate design. A work-desk, mostly used by him in the days he chose to dwell here for a reason that was beyond even his comprehension, stood abandoned now across from the bookshelves.

A bed fit for royalty took up most the right wall and a good deal of space of the entirety of the room. Bright emerald drapes hung from the bed-frame, which was a light hazelnut. In this grand bed, under thin sheets the color of fresh grass, lay the person who he hadn't met or spoken to since he had moved in against Glen's will. Long, blond strands of weaved gold encased a fair, sunken face, sleeping and peaceful in expression. His hands lay atop the sheets next to his sides, static as the rest of him.

Honestly, the man hadn't even done anything and yet Glen was here uneasy and slightly fascinated all the same. He understood nothing about this man, could see nothing of his true nature or the reasons for him to be found in the gardens of the most influential family in their country. And then there was the matter of his sister. Had she known this man?

It was a mystery and the only one who could clear it up was currently indisposed and no matter how many times Glen would check up on his charge or how many afternoons he wasted in this room that wouldn't change. And as much as Glen wanted it to change, maybe he didn't. Dread coiled in the pit of his stomach whenever he thought about it. What if the man had truly known Lacie? What if he hadn't and Charlotte had truly just imagined it – despite her adamant protest otherwise? What then?

No, he'd come here to relieve stress, not to give himself yet another headache. So many problems seemed to be accruing as of late: Gilbert and Vincent running away, Alice running away, the strange appearance of this man in his life, the bogus rumors of monsters about the outskirts of Sablier...

No, he'd deal with all of that later.

"Fang, how is he?"

Glen didn't need to turn around to know the other man was behind him. He'd most likely been hidden behind the door or some other odd corner of the room, but Glen had become so accustomed to the other's presence throughout his life that the other couldn't truly hide himself from the Lord of the Mannor anymore.

"It seems I can no longer fool you, my Master." the other's voice sounded "He is the same as always."

It was the same answer as it had ever been, but Glen still found the need to ask. A sort of disappointing relief filled him at Fang's words.

He nodded.

"Leave me."

Chuckling, the elder man left the room. The resonating _click _of the shutting door was like a switch. Suddenly, Glen could let down part of his walls, lower his guard and Oswald could fall into the plush chair by the bed, tired and devoid of the peace he sought. He was never quite content, he found. There was something he longed and strived for, something that was kept from him and kept him incomplete and wanting. There was an unyielding unrest deep in his bones. He didn't know why that was. Worse, he didn't know how to cure it. He walked and read and went horse-riding but nothing quite calmed him.

Nothing, that is, besides talking to an unconscious man in an empty room. It was ridiculous, absolutely and utterly ludicrous. Yet Glen still did it. He wasn't sure why he did it, but it brought him an unexpected peace of mind. Like the other effects the unknown man had on him, Oswald couldn't figure out why that was or why he bothered with it. Some part of him whispered that he may be lonely – with Lacie gone, Gilbert having went under the radar, Alice away, Alyss too distracted to visit him and the rest of the Baskervilles to keep at a safe distance – that this was simply a moment of weakness that would pass soon enough. The man couldn't even hear him, so what was the point? What was the harm either?

This time however, Glen said nothing.

There was something that stirred in him, always, when he gazed down at this man. It was strange and foreign, but for some reason he felt that he should know it.

It felt an awful lot like regret.

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><p>AN: The next chapter might be take a while in coming, which is a real shame since things start to pick up from that point onward! Ah, <em>se la vie<em>. If you review this chapter I might be willing to move things along a bit faster!


	5. A Shot in the Dark

Special thanks to Cutiepie120048, Theunknown360, Tris PhantomEvans and fangirlawesome for reviewing!

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><p><em>Chapter Five: A Shot in the Dark<em>

Alice was furious. She'd stomped all over the Reinsworth Manor, muttering to herself all the way.

_"Alice! _Wait for me!" her twin sister, Alyss, called.

"Oh come on slow-poke! We need to find Gil so I can smack him in the face!"

"This isn't going to be like your last "rabbit hunt", I hope?"

Of course Alyss would still remember that. It had been years since then, when they were both really small. Alice had been searching their room for her favorite toy, a plush black rabbit in a little red-and-white coat, and Alyss had offered to help, asking what they toy looked like. After Alice had told her, Alyss had looked at her strangely, somewhere between confused and frightened and something else and said they'd never had such a toy.

Which led to Alice throwing a fit.

All because of a stupid toy she hadn't been able to find, but Alice was _sure_ she'd had one just like that. She wasn't sure why it meant so much to her, though, but it did.

"Will you ever let that go?" Alice growled.

"Will you?" Alyss sing-songed.

Alice huffed, choosing not to answer and ignoring her sister's smug smirk. She had better things to do than to search for little lost rabbits, namely hunting down tall trench-coat wearing, pouting half-brothers.

She found neither.

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

„Where _exactly _are we going, Break?"

„Why, Gilbert, how many times have you asked that question now? Five, six?"

„I wouldn't have to ask at all if you'd just answer me for a change, dammit."

„Tut-tut, Gilbert, it's quite unbecoming of a young lord such as yourself to swear." Break teased. The raven huffed.

The carriage kept rolling down more and more bumpier roads, all the while Gil kept muttered decidedly un-lordly things about his travel companion. Break just grinned through the other's tirade.

„Why don't you just tell me?" snapped Gil. He'd been riding in a stuffy carriage from the break of dawn to mid-noon – he hadn't eaten all day, got virtually no sleep the night prior and was stuck in a cramped space that liked to rattle his bones every once in a while as well as being locked in with a psychopath by the name of Xerxes Break for _hours_ on end – if nothing else, he'd at least like to know _why._

If possible, Break's smile grew even wider.

„It's a secret."

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

Some time after their conversation, the carriage stopped and Break decided they should walk from there. It wasn't far, he had said.

Two hours later and they were still walking. If Gil didn't know any better, he'd say this was one of Break's more elaborate jokes and that he may be leading the young Baskerville in circles. But Gil knew Break, however begrudgingly, and he was certain there was more to this than just pulling a prank. Besides, why would Break bring him out here to the very edge of Sablier? For that was where Gil found himself, up a steep, rock laden hill on the edges of his hometown. Why would Break chose to trek through such a remote area?

No, there was something else going on and Gil had a bad feeling he was going to find out just what it was. Damn Break and his crazy stunts.

Gilbert was so absorbed in his internal rant that he failed to notice that Xerxes had stopped walking several steps ahead of him, but was jostled back to his senses soon enough when he nearly crashed into the other man.

It was fortunate that Break had quick reflexes, because if he'd been a millisecond slower Gil found have ended up with his face planted in the dirt. Xerxes's hand still held his forearm in a vice-grip – so tight it was bordering on painful – and the usual cheshire-smile was gone from his lips. He was deadly serious.

„Do you hear that?" asked the crippled man, his lone red eye shifting to their left, as if it could actually see the culprit of said sound. Gilbert gulped, half-annoyed and half-cautious. What the hell was going on?

„I didn't hear anything." he whispered back, but all the same he strained his ears if the mysterious sound chose to repeat itself.

It did not disappoint.

„There," said Break „do you hear that?"

He did. A rustling sound, like something slithering through the undergrowth, drifted through the thick forest surrounding the path they were on. Only, the sound was much too loud to be a wild boar or even a deer. By the volume of it, it couldn't match the amount of noise any animal Gil knew of could produce. _What_ was that?

Just as the question had crossed his mind, the sounds stopped. Not a second later the world exploded into chaos.

A slimy, slithering _thing _crawled out from the tree-line. Gil stared at it with a hectic mixture of fright and bemusement. He wasn't seeing this, it was too surreal. There was a snake – _worm? _– that was a full thirty feet tall and hulking and – _was that a _hand _sticking out of it's rear end?! _– and for some reason he had no trouble believing it was there. He should run – _no, idiot, you shoot it dead and nullify the threat–_

„_Don't shoot!"*_

Gil tensed, every muscle taunt with the intention to fight or flee.

„Humans!" the thing – _snake? Worm? __**Alice?**_ – lifted itself up from the ground, revealing claw-like appendages lining it's underbelly „I smell humans! Where are the humans?! I didn't crawl all the way up here for nothing!"

Break's grip on his arm had gone so rigidly tight Gil felt like any tighter would certainly break his bones, though, really, he didn't even notice as the grotesque creature began to crawl towards them. The pass they were on was a good sixty-yards from the forest floor below, being the many that crisscrossed the hill on which they were standing on. The cliff that separated them from the approaching danger was also pretty steep and Gil dearly hoped the creature wouldn't be able to climb it.

It's head – or the part Gil assumed to be the head – swirled up, looking directly at them.

„They they are!" it shrieked, again in that deep, feral tone it had used before. How did it even _talk_? More importantly, why wasn't Gil even surprised that it did? What was wrong with him?

„Naughty, naughty humans, trying to run from me!" the thing below laughed, if one could even call that wretched sound laughter, as it dragged it's ginormous body up the hill. The moment it's weight slammed into the cliff-side, a shudder went through the earth, making Gil lose his balance just as the rock-covered soil underfoot began to cave.

Giving a shout of alarm, he tumbled down, towards the waiting monster and imminent death that surely awaited should he fall into that creature's path. No, he wasn't dying like this. Hands and legs flailing about, he managed to find stable ground. Crouched over and his palms and knees digging into dirt and stone, he took in his surroundings frantically.

He caught sight of a twisted mass of lavender cloth by the ledge and realized belatedly that Break had released him.

In a panic, he looked in that direction, only to spot his partner tumbling, disoriented, over the edge. Faster than humanly possible, Gil threw himself after him. He stopped short though, with his torso over the edge and one hand gripping the rocks beside him for leverage and the other gripping Break's over-sized sleeve.

„You can't escape!" the monster taunted as it approached slowly, closer now than it had been before, as if savoring the utter helplessness of it's prey.

Abruptly, the world was shattered by an unearthly shriek. Gilbert felt the breath flee from his lungs. A familiar shape – _familiar? Why was it familiar? _– flew past the cliff they were dangling off in a blur, slamming into their otherworldly attacker.

.

„_You warned me, didn't you?"_

_._

The whisper was faint, drowned out by the scene before him and the blood rushing to his ears. All the while, he tugged at the other man, pulling his weight up as he shifted his own to his feet. Gil was too distracted to even notice Break was high enough now to grip the ledge himself, as he was doing right now. His golden eyes were trained on the two beasts fighting below. He reached for his gun with one hand, the other one still griping Break's.

.

„_You will be bound by that left hand, once again."_

_._

As the two forms – one slimy and green, the other as black as the night – twisted around each other and attacked, the raven came to face him.

Gilbert's golden eyes met the Raven's luminous, reflective ones.

.

„_I understand. You wish..."_

_._

„Raven! What are yo-!" the beast – _Grim, it was a Grim – _was screaming.

.

„_...for judgement, don't you?"_

_._

A overwhelming blast of light filled his vision, followed closely by a deafening explosion. He felt arms on his shoulders then–

„Move!"

–Break was pulling _him _– _and wasn't he just hanging off a cliff a moment ago? – _and he was stumbling up the path. As the two of them hurried into what somewhat resembled a jog, Gil managed to clear the haze from his thoughts and straighten. They broke into a run after that.

Their feet pounded on rock and gravel and then, after a while, on hard soil and leaves. It was a good fifteen minutes before they stopped and took shelter in a secluded grove by the main road, panting and listening. Gil's eyes darted this way and that, his left hand still clenched around his gun. Break was much calmer, though by the way he was holding himself Gil could see the illness seeping out of every pore of the man's body. Damn, he'd forgotten all about Break's condition. Damn, damn, _damn _what the hell should he do now? No, wait, calm down. That's better, Gil will deal with Break's idiocy later.

Gil's breathing evened out eventually and they waited. Nothing happened, nothing came. They were safe. Still...

Breathing hard, adrenaline still rushing through his veins, Gil found it hard to believe that.

„What was _that_?" he asked finally, his voice slightly hoarse.

The Reinsworth servant said nothing, his bloody eye focused and strangely intense, but his lips were quirking at the edges, as if threatening to spread into a grin. Gil's already frazzled nerves exploded „What the hell are you smiling about?!"

Break, the smirk now in full bloom on his pale face, merely chuckled, straightening his back from the slight hunch it had developed while they had stood in their little sanctuary.

„We should be heading back, don't you think?" he asked. Gil just stared, wide-eyed, mouth hanging slightly open and at a complete loss. Break couldn't be serious. After all _that _– hours of travel and walking and _running from bloody monsters _– he just _couldn't _be serious.

But Break just continued to smirk and chortle as though at some perverted, private joke of his and that Gil would certainly be the pun of.

„Besides, this will certainly keep you from falling asleep on the ride back home." the man added lightly, already stepping out of the grove and back on the main road, passing Gilbert as he did. Gil continued to stare at the spot Break had occupied moments earlier. Then he blinked, twice. The hand that had never let the gun go, that had slackened in his shock at Break's sudden departure, tightened in frustration.

Turning around with such force and speed it raised the dust beneath his feet, Gil began to stalk towards the cause of his ire. He knew Break wasn't likely to tell him what was going on – w_hat he had planned, because Break _always _had something planned _– and Gil knew getting a straight answer out of the clown was like pulling teeth with nothing to show for the laborious task. But damn it! There were creatures lurking that were bigger than most houses that ate humans! They'd _almost died_ and _Break_ was acting like _nothing_ had happened and Gil damn well wanted to know what in the Abyss was going on! He _needed _to.

Break had a lot of answering to do, if Gilbert had anything to say about it.

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><p>* ~ quoted from chapter <em>12: Who am I?<em>. All other quotations are from chapter _78: Decision_ of the manga.

Don't forget to drop me a comment and tell me what you think!


	6. Crossroads

_AN: I'm back! I'm really excited now, I love updating this thing! I also updated a one-shot yesterday, with Lacie as the main character. There should be more stories about her, and both Jack and Glen/Oswald. I love those three! Please check it out and if your looking for good PH fics, feel free to check out my Community too!_

_P.S. I'm going to update a one-shot about Jack tomorrow! :)_

_Anyway, this chapter goes out to SomeonewithAfro, , Gamma Cavy, Theunknown360 and Erwana. Enjoy!_

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><p><em>Chapter Six: Crossroads<em>

The minute the door of the carriage closed with a soft _click_ Break's ever eerily cheerful expression dropped into something much more grim and ominous. Gil knew he wasn't going to like this. He just knew. Break always got himself into these situations. But damn it, why did he have to drag Gilbert down with him? How had he ever wronged him? No, it was far more likely that Break was a sadist and just enjoyed seeing Gilbert squirm.

Break, seeing his uneasy expression threw him a pleasant smile, only confirming Gil's earlier musings. „Well now, Gilbert, this is an interesting turn of events, don't you think?"

Gil just stared at him, speechless and really – _really _– he shouldn't have been all that surprised.

„What?" he snapped, annoyed by Break's evasive behavior.

The other man continued to laugh quietly to himself and Gil was hard pressed not to punch him, just to beat a little sense in that psychotic head of his. „We go though all that and all you can say is 'what'?"

Gilbert frowned, his temper spiking „What are you talking about?"

„The creatures we just encountered. That _is _our main concern, after all." Break said cheerfully, wisely choosing not to make fun of Gil's mood swings. The young Baskerville guessed that even someone like Break knew when enough was enough. Then again, considering what they'd just gone through, who knew what that bastard was thinking half the–

Then it clicked.

„You... you brought us here to find that thing?" Gil asked haltingly, as if asking for confirmation that it wasn't true. Break couldn't really be _that _mad, could he?

Any illusions he might have been all too content to immerse himself in were dashed by the Reinswort servant's next words „Very perceptive Gilbert, never do you cease to amaze me."

That bloody-!

„But _why_?"

„Tell me, Lord Baskerville," Gil tensed at the title, because Break only used it when deadly serious, despite the deceptively placid look on his face „when you saw those creatures, what did you hear?"

Silence.

„What did...?" Gil was seriously begin to question Break's mental health.

What did _that _even mean? _Did you hear anything?_

„Did you hear something you weren't supposed to? Something that seemed... out of place?" Break clarified with a slightly irritated sight.

Weren't... supposed to? Why did–

_Black. Everywhere he looked. Only oily, all-encompassing darkness and silver chains and pitch black feathers dancing in a slow hurricane around him._

He sucked in a breath.

„What was that?"

But instead of answering – instead of the answer appearing right before his eyes in bright, vivid images and distantly familiar voices – Xerxes Break just laughed.

„My, my you should broaden your dictionary, dear Gilbert!" Break breathed out between huffs of laughter.

Gil's eyes narrowed „Just answer the question, Break!"

The laughter stopped as suddenly as if it were drowned out by a gunshot and the slightly maniacal clown was suddenly so still and grim it was almost unnatural.

It was not something to be taken lightly.

„Do you really want to know?"

The question made Gilbert pause, his mind going blank for a second. Did he really? It would only bring him trouble, he knew, but there were monsters lurking so near his home and how could he just ignore that? How could he live a normal life when nothing in it felt real or warm? How could he ignore the burning _need _that consumed him in the brief moments he'd heard those far-away, unrecognizable yet familiar voices?

But did he really want to know? Truly?

Gil was nodding before he even realized what he was doing.

Break returned the motion with his own head of silvery lavender „Then tell me what you saw."

Gil did. He didn't know how long they spoke or what, exactly, was there to talk about, but Gil told Break everything that wasn't supposed to be there – except the monsters they had both seen, of course. It was strange to explain, but those things he'd seen felt as though he'd seen them – _felt them – _somewhere before as well. Out of all of them, the boy's voice, so desperate, so pleading – „_Don't shoot!" _– rattled him most of all.

„Alright." said Break finally, his tone weighted down by a heavy sigh „That's something, at least."

Gil gave a grunt of agreement. There was a second of utter silence, before Gilbert – hesitantly – chose to break it. „What did... you hear?"

Silence. Break had gone as rigid as a statue, his crimson eye wide with surprise before it narrowed and hardened. Gilbert's shoulders slumped. Just as he'd given up hope, however, Break spoke.

„A little girl." he said, scarcely a whisper, barely heard over the clattering of the carriage's wooden wheels beneath their feet.

Gil frowned. „Sharon?" he prompted.

Again, there was a moment in which Break seemed as though he wouldn't answer.

„Sometimes." The older man confirmed. He paused, then, staring off into space. „Mostly, it's a little blond girl... crying over a coffin."

Gilbert cringed.

„That's... unusual." he said, faltering „Have you tried to find her?"

This time, the was less hesitation in the other's voice, though it's tone didn't change. „Yes, I wasn't very successful though."

The frown, banished only moments before, returned to Gil's pale face.

„Why?"

But before Break could even open his mouth the carriage stopped, making them both lurch in their respective seats. Gilbert blinked. They couldn't be back yet. It had been scarcely forty minutes since they set out towards home, normally they wouldn't be back for more than three hours.

This didn't seem to concern Break at all.

„Ah, we're here." the clown announced, his voice lightening a bit, but not quite. It was a good imitation of his usual cheer yet sounded warped in this somber atmosphere.

Gil stood up, frowning and followed his companion out of the carriage. The other man was already on the other side of the clearing they had stopped in. After telling the driver to wait for them the young Baskerville sprinted after Break.

Break wasn't all that hard to find. He'd stopped some two-hundred meters from where their carriage remained, beyond the three-line and on a rocky, barren plane. He was looking at the blue sky that faded from the light, sun-bathed blue to the black of midnight on the far horizon.

Wait, how was that even possible?

He quickened his steps, keeping one eye on the runaway and the other on the sky still. It couldn't have been three past noon, he could still see the sun shining in the sky yet when he looked past Break's figure and into the distance, the recesses of the sky faded into the darkest of blacks. In long, quick strides he reached his companion's side.

His golden eyes grew impossibly wide as he saw what Break's blind eyes had been watching. The earth ended abruptly, so much it was like a surgical cut. Where the earth ended however, the darkness – a gaping, endless abyss – began. The sight made him freeze on the spot, unable to take in a single breath.

He should've been paying more attention to his surrounding, Gil realized, as a shadow _moved _barely twenty feet from the spot they were standing on. Gil sucked in a breath, suddenly noticing all the _other _hulking, black masses in their vicinity.

They were nondescript, enormous – _like the_ Grim_ had been _– and mostly hidden by the strange blackness. Gil couldn't really see any specific details of their appearance, even with his perfect eye-sight. His heart was beating a hundred miles an hour.

„Break?" he rasped under his breath, eyeing the deformed shadows lurking about them in a loose semi-circle. His hand reached for his gun almost on it's own.

Break dissuaded him with a shake of the head and a subtle hand motion.

„Back away slowly Gilbert and don't worry," the older man commanded sternly „they won't hurt you as long as you don't get too close to the edge."

If the situation was any less serious he might have questioned that logic, but as it was he'd learned to trust Break's judgement. Gradually, they followed through with Break suggestion, creeping painfully slowly back to the edge of the forest behind them.

Then they turned around and made their way back to the carriage again.

He was shaking, Gil realized distractedly, hugging himself with one arm while the other clutched his gun like it were some kind of lifeline. He was dully thankful that Break had chosen not to comment on his weakness. Though, honestly, he couldn't care less about it at this point.

Their carriage came into view, as well as its' driver, who'd apparently decided this was a good time to take a few drags of his cigarette. He looked so unconcerned, so ignorant, Gil wanted to scream at him. For a moment, he wished he could switch places with the man. He dismissed the thought with a rough shake of the head and continued to walk.

„What do you think all of this means Break?" he asked helplessly as they neared, still far enough for the third-party not to hear.

There was silence for four frantic beats of the younger's heart – five – before Break deemed him with three simple words:

„I don't know."

And somehow, those words scared Gil more than anything else.

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><p><em>Thoughts? What would you like to see happen next?<em>


	7. One Stormy Night

AN: Special thanks to , Namelesskid123, Cutiepie120048, Gamma Cavy and skypie! No Elliot this chapter either, unfortunately, but expect to see him soon! Enjoy and don't forget to drop me a review!

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><p><em>Chapter Seven: One Stormy Night<em>

_The water rippled with every step he took._

_His bare feet were skinnier than before, bonier. He hadn't eaten in a while. Even if he was a Chain now, he could still live off human food. It was better than eating humans, like all the other Chains._

_It was rare that he ventured outside, into the higher levels of the Abyss, but he was feeling nostalgic today and cooping himself up in Alyss's playroom or curling up in a chair in the small library he'd made there wouldn't help his cause._

_He wanted to forget, wanted to put himself under his own spell, but he couldn't do that._

_He looked up and saw a ruined dome suspended by great chains, now reduced to something resembling a bowl beginning to crumble. He saw the world – his world – suspended above. Frozen._

_He watched the chains binding it to that place – his chains, rusted with his blood – and wondered how they could hold such a weight. Wondered how a despicable thing like him could hope to save anyone, how he had hoped to make them happy if he'd stayed by their sides. No, it was better this way..._

„_They're happy." he'd say „That's enough."_

_But Oz knew it wan't._

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

"Come on, Alice! You have to come to the ball!" Alyss pleaded with the brunette, threading her fingers through Cheshire's fur as he sat in her lap.

Alice glared at her sister, one eye staying warily to the seemingly friendly cat "Why?"

Alyss raised a delicate eyebrow "Because... there'll be meat?"

A pause.

"Fine, but I'm not putting on that bloated gown you gave me for my birthday."

The eerie smile on Alyss's face said otherwise.

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

The weather was doing a very good imitation of Gil's mood. It was cloudy outside, painted desolate blues and blacks and looking as though it might rain any second. Really, Gil wished it would, anything to break the overwhelming silence that had overtaken his room. Where was that stupid rabbit when he needed her most?

He didn't know what he'd expected when he went up here, earlier than normal. Sleep? An epiphany? All he got, however, was silence and his mind running in circles.

He just kept thinking over Break's words and hearing the _„This is our little secret, Gilbert, it could prove potentially dangerous to involve anyone else in this. For now, speak of this to no one." _over and over again. But he'd went against that advice and asked, in the most round-about and vague way he could manage, Sharon if she knew if Break was up to something. It was scary how her smile was so similar to Break's as she'd answered that _no, _she hadn't a clue.

It had been stupid of him to question the girl, he knew, because if the family servant wouldn't tell him the truth, than what hope did he have that the family heiress would do otherwise? It was still frustrating. Gil closed his eyes with a sigh, but opened them again a few moments later. He was restless. He needed a cigar to calm his nerves, but felt too exhausted to get up and go out into the cold night air of his balcony.

He continued to lay on his bed, staring at the high ceiling above the canopy of his bed. It reminds him of something – some other instance in which he'd been so horribly devastated and depressed – but it was like the word at the tip of his tongue that he just can't remember.

Sleep evaded him, so all he can do was think. His mind drew blank every time. Every train of thought lead to a dead end. Every time he tried to reason out what he saw, it was like a fog came over his thoughts, muddling them.

It was useless, he knew, to try and be of some use to the people around him.

Who would want such a worthless thing like him anyway?

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

Vincent was generally a refined individual. He was calm, collected, calculating and sometimes detached, like every Noble should be.

Now, Vincent was very close to something one could only call giddiness, though he made no outward show of it. It was rare that he felt as excited and happy as he did now, considering his brooding nature – one of the things he and his brother had in common, Vincent thought with affection – but she had said _yes_ and Vincent just couldn't keep the smile off his face, despite knowing his employer, Oscar Vessalius, would soon be upon him in all his fatherly, over-protective fury.

It had been the best decision of his life, Vincent firmly believed, to stay with the Vessalius family. He'd found everything he'd ever searched for there. Forgiveness, understanding, warmth and his very own, personal sun. The sun that chased away the darkness that had once chained him. The sun he was now trying to repay, that he knew he could never _truly_ repay. And this, nothing could ruin this day because...

Vincent was taking Ada Vessalius to the Baskerville Ball.

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><p>AN: <em>Please, tell me what's on your mind?<em>


	8. The Masquerade

Special thanks to Cutiepie120048, , Namelesskid123, Yuki Loxar and for reviewing! Sorry, no Ada in this chapter - but she'll be making an appearance soon enough! In the meanwhile, sit back and enjoy yourselves!

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><p><em>Chapter Eight: Masquerade<em>

Everything was perfect.

The Baskerville Mansion was as grandiose as ever, but now both the interior and exterior were decorated by the hands of the three other Duke Houses. The famed Reinsworth roses and flowers decorated the tables of the ballroom. An elite orchestra , of which the Nightrays were patron, was stationed in the ballroom – and best of all, even Elliot Nigtray himself would play for the occasion – and the ghosting touches of the Barma were evident in the many poets and comedians doing small, synchronized performances.

Sharon had, of course, made sure everything was perfect. Then double checked everything, twice.

After making sure everything was in place and ready, the great double doors of the Baskerville Mansion were open to the public.

It brought great joy to Sharon, to know that she had given a hand in bringing this event about. Being so young and inexperienced – and a woman – many had doubted – and still probably did – her ability to plan and work for herself. It was her secret delight to prove people wrong.

Her second joy came in the form of Break, though she was now enjoying the other, more sadistic part of their relationship. Keeping secrets, huh? Oh, he was asking for it! How dare he keep things hidden from his Mistress? How _dare _he lie to her?

Sharon didn't let any of her dark thoughts mar her face as she welcomed guest after guest with a smile.

She giggled, the sound more sinister than any young lady should be able to make and thought _that's what he gets for keeping secrets from me. Later, he'll be in for a full interrogation._

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

Break was being tortured by Isla Yura.

He was bored out of his mind – not to mention frustrated – while listening with one ear as Isla Yura and Oscar Vessalius, of all people, continued to prattle on about this or that. Honestly, didn't the men have anyone else to bother? While he honestly liked Lord Vessalius, the same could not be said for the ecstatic foreigner. This conversation was pure torture.

Break held back an aggravated huff. He had better things to do than to indulge the overly chipper bombast of a mad-man.

Just then, as if the Fates had noticed his despair, he sensed the all too familiar sanitation. It was a presence very much alike that of the monsters he and Gilbert had encountered a few days ago, though not quite.

Karma really must have hated him.

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

The ballroom was stuffy and overly crowded, just like it always was during the rare events in which the Baskervilles hosted any sort of celebration.

Gil, as always, felt incredibly stupid in his too tight black suit and the very obvious fact that a good third of the party-goers were staring at him. It was, all in all, rather disconcerting. Why were they staring at him like that? They must have been judging him – him, the worthless runaway heir to the greatest Dukedom of their country. What must they think of him, now that he'd just shown up here out of the blue?

God, he needed a drag.

As he was contemplating how to escape outside unseen, a familiar mop of well trimmed brown hair caught his eye. He turned towards the head bobbing through the crowd, calling out to the man he thought he'd seen:

„Liam?"

Said man popped out from between a group of gossiping noblewomen and two elderly gentlemen, looking slightly irritated. „Oh, Gilbert, good. I found you." he said in form of greeting „Break sent me."

Well, what explained things.

Holding back a groan, Gilbert asked „What did he say this time?"

„He said there was some anomaly by the door that _he didn't know of_," Liam scowled at this „whatever that means, and that you should go follow it."

Silence. Gilbert blinked once and continued to stare at the Barma servant as if he'd just grown a second head.

Liam let out an agitated sigh.

„Did you get any of that?" he asked.

Gilbert continued to stare. „I have no idea what you're talking about."

„No one knows what's going to Break's head most of the time, geez." Liam grumbled and looked very much as if all he wanted was to storm over to Break and tell the man off, which might not have been far from the truth.

„Well, you'll have to excuse me."

With that, Liam's figure was lost to the mass.

„Bye, Liam." Gilbert called as the older man's back vanished in the crowd.

_He didn't know of_, yeah, sure, there was only one thing Break could mean by that. Damn his luck. Break obviously wasn't coming to Gil's aid any time soon and he knew if he'd dared involved Liam he'd end up decapitated before he could blink. Gil shivered. Break could be scary when he wanted to. He didn't even need to try most of the time.

Deciding he'd wasted enough time contemplating Break's eeriness, Gil started making his way towards the double doors of the grand, cavernous ballroom. His golden eyes roamed the space around the exit, before he locked gazes with irises more intense than his own.

Lifeless, almost _soulless_, eyes had caught him in their snare. They were a dark purple color, like rotten plums, and stared at him like they could see his very soul and right through it. Short white hair framed a hauntingly blank face. Gil realized belatedly that the strange girl was clutching something to her chest, but before he could decipher what it was the girl turned, her dark blue gown swishing around her knees – _and wasn't that indecent_? – but the though, and the girl, were gone in an instant.

In a panic, Gil broke into a run.

He threw hasty excuses left and right as he pushed his way forward as fast as the fluctuation mass of bodies would allow him. Suddenly, lost in the haze of movement, he bumped into a much smaller person. Gil wouldn't have even spared a glance to the obstacle if it had not been the one to apologize.

„Sorry." they said.

Gil caught a flash of a blood-red – incarnadne and green, different yet one and the same – blurr on the stranger's young face. It made something in his freeze, ice cold fingers suddenly gripping at his heart.

Gilbert paused, half-turning to see nothing but gowns and fancy black suits. Shaking himself back to his senses, Gil raced out after his target.

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><p>AN: So guys, what do you think is gonna happen next?<p> 


	9. A Life You Won't Remember

Special thanks to Cutiepie120048, Gamma Cavy, Namelesskid123, and This PhantomEvans for reviewing!

_AN: I'm back! Man, I'm so excited about this chapter! You'll see why pretty soon. Oh, and to clear things up, this is VincentXAda. Other pairings are pretty optional (which ones do you guys like, anyway). Anyway, read on and enjoy! _

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><p><em>Chapter Nine: A Life You Won't Remember, A Name You Won't Forget<em>

She was fast.

_Inhumanly_ fast.

Gil's feet pounded loudly in the empty corridors of the Baskerville Mansion. His target was already far ahead of him and he was just barely managing to keep her in his sights. When she turned the corner somewhere on the upper levels of the mansion and when he followed suit ten seconds later, she was gone. Vanished.

His fist slammed into the nearest wall with a frustrated hiss.

Where the hell did she go?

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

Vincent was having a splendid evening.

He and Ada had arrived at the ball in accordance, she in the expensive light rose colored gown he'd bought her especially for this occasion. She looked stunning in it, but all the same smiled shyly up at him. He smiled too, thought the motion of his muscles felt foreign to his face even after all this time. However, it felt more real than any of his smiles before meeting the love of his life.

They'd danced a few dances across the ballroom, countless eyes analyzing their every step – what they must have looked like, a cursed Baskerville Noble and a poor Third Rate one, spinning and spinning and smiling in their own little word? Not that Vincent cared about what any one thought. All he needed was Ada – and Gil – and his world was bright and complete.

He couldn't have wished for anything more.

Speak of the devil... had that just been Gilbert? Yes, that was his head of unruly curls right there, facing away from him and headed towards the door. Smiling to himself, Vincent stretched his arm out above his head with a greeting at the tip of his tongue when his brother suddenly broke into a run.

The shout died on his lips, his mind already on high alert.

Was something wrong? What was Gil running from?

„I'll be right back, Ada." he said to his dearest, his demeanor suddenly much more serious. She glanced up at him, all emerald pools of molten worry on her soft, round face. He could tell she was brimming with questions – to ask him where he was going and what was happening – but she must have recognized the look on his face.

„Will you be alright?" she asked instead.

Vincent nodded, warmth filling his chest. That was another thing he loved about Ada, she could love him and make him feel like he was blessed instead of cursed. She made him believe there was hope for him yet.

Vincent put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. „Don't worry Ada, everything's alright." with that he was off, before she could even open her mouth to reply. He'd already wasted enough time and Gil could have been half-way across the Mansion by now. Gil might be in danger.

Luckily, his brother was like an elephant in a china shop when he was in a haste and Vincent heard his thundering footsteps before he even saw him. Honestly, couldn't Gil be any less subtle?

The footsteps went silent for a second somewhere ahead, followed by the sound of something banging against something else. Then everything went quiet.

A door clicked shut at the end of the hall.

Vincent smirked triumphantly.

Bingo.

He took care to make his steps as light as possible. When he was in front of the specified door, he stopped and pressed his ear to the wood. Nothing, absolutely no sound, but he knew what he saw.

Cautiously, he opened the door.

The room was spacious in it's own right, the furniture that of bare necessities and nothing too extravagant. A bed occupied a good portion of space to the left of the door, draped in deep forest-green canopy.

There was nobody inside.

He must have somehow passed his brother without either of them noticing. Or the one who'd been chasing him. But no, now that he stopped to think about it, why would anyone be chasing Gilbert? No one, to his knowledge – which was very extensive, of course – had any motive to go chasing around the former Baskerville heir. Women still looked at him with lust and families still sought out political marriages, but most did not go _literally _chasing their praise.

And besides, he'd _seen_ this door close shut and hadn't seen anyone come out after.

No, there was something going on here, Vincent realized with a jolt of what might have been fear, though he stifled it as soon as it emerged. He had to focus.

The blond's attention was drawn to the bed and he realized, belatedly, that the curtains hanging off it's frame were closed.

Who would want to be asleep during an even like this? This was the first time in ten years that the Baskerville Ball was being held. No, something was wrong here.

Deciding to investigate further, Vincent took a breath and made his way over, his hand ghosting over a small hand-gun he always kept on his person. Better safe than sorry, after all.

The curtain was flung open without further ado and the instant the blond Baskerville laid eyes on the person laying in it, he wished to the heavens above he hadn't.

The transparent drapes by the windows allowed moonlight to flood the bedroom, the cloth billowing slightly from an unseen wind that had drifted through the open window. The only sound in room was that of harsh breathing.

Vincent was hyperventilating. His heart was beating so fast it hurt and he was sure it would burst out of his chest any moment now, his mind was muddled and he felt light-headed. This wasn't happening.

_Pull yourself together._

His knees buckled.

Vincent barely registered hitting the ground, his eyes were wide, unfocused – _deceiving – _but still staring at the all too familiar face resting among pastel green sheets.

His upper body lurched forward and he grabbed at the edge of the thick mattress, trying to steady himself. Vincent's hands trembled uncontrollably, his whole body quaking with tremor after tremor and he was barely aware that he kept repeatedly shaking his head.

„_What do you mean, Master?"_

One of his hands shot out, reaching, searching, God he was so _lost–_

_They were in the garden with Gil and Master Glen, all bathing in the sunlight and for once the invitation of warmth and contentedness of summer days seemed to have been extended to Vincent as well._

The skin of his hand brushed a lock of the man's untied hair out of the other's peaceful, slumbering face almost without thought.

Green eyes snapped open.

„_Well, since Glen seems to have adopted little Gilbert as his son, I would think that I'd do the same for you." He'd smiled, bright and warm and just for Vincent „Of course, you'll need to stay with the Baskervilles, I imagine Glen would have my head if I took you anywhere without his permission."_

_His smile grew wider, peridot eyes twinkling as He ruffled Vincent's blond hair fondly „And I told you not to call me „Master"! There's no need for such formalities! Just call me_ Jack!"

No, no, he couldn't think about that. He wouldn't, it was all false. All false.

In his panic, Vincent didn't notice that his once sleeping companion was now awake until the other blond sat up on propped elbows.

Vincent bounced back with a choked scream. „Who are you?!" he shouted, so rushed and hysterical it it came out almost incomprehensible „Who are you? Who are you? _Who are you?Who areyou?"_

The man was looking at him, all bright peridot eyes full of concern and molten sunshine and _Vincent couldn't take it!_

„Answer me! Who the hell are you?!" the young Baskerville spat, despite the half-sob that had wormed itself into his voice. Vincent didn't know why he was asking, didn't know anything at all – this man was supposed to be _gone–_

The man's concerned, intense eyes watched him without blinking. He shifted his weight, the mattress slumping as he leaned towards the edge, towards Vincent, a hand ready to reach out and touch and _cut his hair–_

„Don't touch me!"

The other froze. It was like all motion left the world in those few moments. The pale hand of a friend still hung in the air, as if a silent offer, before falling to rest on pastel sheets.

The twin pools of green didn't avert their gaze from him, but all the same Vincent found it easier to breathe.

Finally, Jack Vessalius opened his mouth to reply.

„I..." the elder man paused, frowning down at the sheets before his head snapped up and he stared, wide-eyed, into Vincent's mismatched irises.

„I don't remember."

/~*~\/~*~\/~*~\

_„It seems our charade is coming to an end." he whispered, his voice hiding just how frightened he was by the mere prospect of it all. „What do you think, Echo-chan?"_

_The girl stood behind him, a few paces away from the window – where he sat on the sill – where there was nothing to see but endless black – where, once upon a hundred years ago, there might have been stars._

_„Just Echo," the girl said in all familiar endearment „ and Echo thinks you shouldn't worry."_

_The blond blinked „Oh?"_

_„Yes, because Echo will make sure everything's alright." she said "Master Oz doesn't need to be sad anymore."_

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><p><em>AN: Yay! The plot thickens! What do you think, did I manage to surprise you? Haha! Whoever guesses how and why Jack woke up gets to request a one-shot from me. Any character(s) from PH, any genre, any situation you want to see - whether canon or in this universe. Review! I'm really interested in what you guys think about this!<em>


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